Keepers
by EmLocke
Summary: Luke and Lorelai are together and loving it. It's all fluff, all the time, when Luke gets efficient and Lorelai gets goofy. With a shout out to the Java Junkies at Fan Forum! One-shot.


**Disclaimer**: I'm unofficial, I don't own Gilmore Girls.

**Description**: L&L are together and loving it. It's all fluff when Luke gets efficient and Lorelai gets goofy. A shout out to the Java Junkies at Fan Forum.

**To You, From Me**: Reviews make me goofy in a good way!

**Keepers** _by Emily_

Lorelai answered the door in jeans and an apple green t-shirt, but she was still just tousled enough that Luke could tell she hadn't been out of bed long.

"Hello, back so soon?" she squinted out the door at him, her sleepy eyes not yet adjusted to the daylight. He tilted his head to examine the pillow creases on her cheek.

"Did you just get up?" It was not quite noon, but Lorelai had been stirring lazily from her pillow when he go out of bed hours ago and she had whined that she would never be able to fall asleep again. Obviously, she had gathered the strength to drift off after his departure.

"Oh, stop, it's my day off," she rationalized with a flick of her wrist. She shuffled into the kitchen, beckoning him to join her. "What's with the box?" she asked, noticing for the first time the cardboard box he carried. "And did you bring coffee? Does coffee come in a box now? How long _was_ I sleeping?" Before she could ramble further, Luke pointed to her coffee maker, plugged in and bubbling on the counter. He had put fresh grounds in the filter and set the timer on his way out. "Oh, wow, Luke's coffee in my own kitchen," she said, filling a wide-rimmed mug and descending into a kitchen chair with a contented sigh. "So," she said, when the first dose of caffeine had filtered into her bloodstream, "what's in the box?"

"Well, as you know," Luke began, putting the box on the kitchen table, "the ratio of nights I spend in my bed versus nights I spend in your bed has become increasingly disproportionate, according to a recent, _expert_ analysis."

"Are you going to show me a chart?" Lorelai teased, swallowing another mouthful of coffee.

"I can count on my fingers, if that would help you visualize the data." Lorelai nodded appreciatively. He sighed; he set himself up for this one. Without bothering to protest, he mentally reviewed their nocturnal habits over the past two weeks, counting out fingers one by one until he arrived, resolutely, at an even ten. He held up both hands, palms out, and looked at her matter-of-factly.

"You skipped one," she said, shaking her head and getting up to refill her mug, which she had already drained. Puzzled, Luke looked down at his hands again, double checking his math. "Last Thursday," she hinted, coming to his side, "You said you were going to leave, like, fourteen times, and eventually you did, but you were back here before sunrise, so that counts." She held up one finger alongside his ten for the full illustrative effect.

"Well, if you already _knew_ that," he protested, but she beamed up at him so sweetly, he couldn't argue. "Ahh, yes. Eleven then," he conceded, and placed his palms on her bare shoulders to escort her back to her seat. "Eleven nights out of fourteen. And that is an unbalanced ratio."

"And this is a problem?" she asked, teasing again, "because I know you like the balance, and if we need to adjust the ratio..."

"I do enjoy the balance," he interrupted, as he had learned to do, "but I'm partial to other..._elements_ of the equation as well." She almost expected him to wink, and when he didn't, she stole the opportunity for herself, which made him smile.

"So, I assume you have a strategy to propose. To reestablish the balance?"

"That I do, my friend - "

"Lov**_er_**," she amended without missing a beat.

"Do you _ever_ want to find out what I have in this box?" Lorelai zipped her lip and held out her palm flat, offering him an invisible key. He wasn't going to take it; he shouldn't take it; shouldn't encourage her, but she murmured insistently through puckered lips and stretched her hand farther across the table. He sighed, rolled his eyes and accepted the 'key,' holding it up to play along. She shook her head, not yet satisfied, and indicated through exaggerated mime that he should deposit the key into his shirt pocket. Doing so, he grumbled, "I suppose this might come in handy later, anyway."

This finished off Lorelai's skit. She couldn't resist opening her mouth to drawl a coy "_dirty_..." but before she could finish, he reached into his pocket again and threatened her with his invisible key. She relented, grinning apologetically and bringing her coffee mug to her lips.

"Okay," Luke resumed his presentation. "Since both involved parties, that would be you and me, would find it unfavorable to officially re-stabilize the ratio of nights spent apart and nights spent _together_," he emphasized the word suggestively and she giggled in appreciation, "I have, in this box, a remedy." Finally, he flipped open the folded flaps and began to introduce its contents one by one.

A washcloth, a toothbrush, a travel-sized alarm clock for _his_ side of _her_ bed, a pair of socks, which he dared to toss at her behind his back, feeling playful, and she caught deftly and clasped under her chin.

"Soap, and my _own_ shampoo," he finished off his list, adding a fresh bar of soap, already neatly accompanied by a green plastic dish, and white bottle with a generic navy label to the pile on the table. Lorelai scoffed, feigning offense.

"What's wrong with the Gilmore Salon merchandise?"

"I took a shower here last week and I had to use the fruity stuff that's on the shelf," he complained, and she snorted.

"The pink bottle?"

"I don't know, probably. Like there's just the _one_ pink bottle up there," he rolled his eyes. "The one with the cartoon head on the cap." She wrinkled her nose as she itemized the catalogue of licensed character beauty products in her bathroom.

"Ahh," she recalled, "you did smell a little Strawberry Shortcake that day."

"Thanks for noticing," he grumbled facetiously. She came around the table and pressed her nose against his flannel shirt.

"Don't worry, you're smelling exceptionally masculine this morning." He smelled distinctively and delightfully 'Luke,' she thought, wrapping her arms around him sideways and settling her cheek alongside his shoulder. "So."

"So?"

"You brought stuff over. Your stuff," she pointed out, surveying his pile on the table. Luke could hear the smile in her voice. He wound one arm around her waist and clasped her elbow across his chest with the other hand. Standing together in Lorelai's kitchen, Luke felt solid and whole and exhilaratingly weightless all at the same time. Even the balled up pair of socks seemed to belong right where they were, beside her coffee cup in the middle of her kitchen table. He squeezed her closer to him in a quick sideways hug.

"...And now, I have to go, have to get back to the diner for lunch"

"Okay, just give me this, and about twenty-eight seconds," she said, snatching the box and dashing up the stairs, two at a time. "Don't move!" she called over her shoulder.

"Lorelai!" He made a very earnest effort to sound sincerely irritated. The best he could do was cross his arms and purse his lips while he waited for her in the foyer, watching for her feet to descend on the staircase.

"Coming, coming, coming, coming, coming, here you go!" Lorelai skipped down the stairs, almost knocking Luke backward into the door when she pressed the box against his chest. "If you've got stuff at my house, some of my stuff is gonna be displaced. Now it's like I have extra stuff. Where am I supposed to put my extra stuff?" She batted her eyelashes, baiting him to look at the new contents. Not without a crooked eyebrow, he peered inside. She followed his gaze, still grinning.

"What's this?" he asked skeptically, holding up a flat rock. Someone had painted it pink, stenciled a white daisy on the top and glued a large plastic jewel in the flower's center. Yellow feathers fanned out along the edges and the whole thing was frosted with a layer of silver glitter.

"It's my pet rock. It's pretty. It wants to live on your dresser." Also included was a mismatched pair of socks, a crimping iron, a framed photo of Rory, a handful of hair elastics, a pair of orange Jackie O. sunglasses, a baseball cap and two cassette tapes. "...if I need a disguise, and that's if we ever decide to dress alike, and, um, those are actually tapes that I borrowed from you, well, back when people actually listened to cassette tapes..." she rattled off each item's curiously sensible purpose, then produced a final article from behind her back and tossed it from hand to hand before holding it out for him, "...and, this is to keep in your shower, you know, just in case anybody ever needs it. Anybody at all." He rolled his eyes and chuckled, accepting the hot pink bottle of shampoo with the cartoon head on the top because, with this woman, what else could he do?

"Are you mocking me?"

"I am _adoring_ you," Lorelai declared. Luke couldn't argue with that.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"No, that's all - for now, my little Strawberry Shortcake," she said, tilting her chin sweetly for effect. At his warning expression she tried again, "No? No. How about Lucky Luke?" He played along in spite of himself, caught up in her game, as usual.

"Java junkie."

"Coffee cutie," she countered without hesitation. He rolled his eyes.

"Enough with the alliteration already."

"Oh, fine, Lukie Mc_Lukester_," she said, slinking up to his side and putting her arms around his neck.

"Where is that damned key?" he propped the box on one hip and fumbled in his shirt pocket with the opposite hand. She laughed, her nose wrinkling against his cheek, tugging at his wrist until he gave up his search and covered her hand with his own, clasping her fingers affectionately. "See you later?"

"Mmm-hmm, my place or yours?"


End file.
